


The Charm of W101

by WinterAndLittleBrunettes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: College AU, I put a lot of effort into it, Like he should be, M/M, So yeah, Swear warning, and hunk is a ray of sunshine, and so is keith, and we love her for it, but theyre college students what do you expect, honestly its just a good college au guys, keith is a studio art and english double major, klance, lance is an astronomy major, lance is pining super hard, oh if youre not into swearing, pidge and hunk are engineering majors, pidge is just a know-it-all, pls love it, shocking right, the brave soul, there is a fair use of the word fuck, this fic aint for you, who is praised for his cooking skills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 11:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14544174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterAndLittleBrunettes/pseuds/WinterAndLittleBrunettes
Summary: Lance, a third year astronomy major at Altea University, has to fulfil his arts and humanities credit to graduate, and better late than never, right? Graduation, after spending thousands of dollars on his tuition, is important. He ends up in Professor Smythe's third year English course, surrounded by english enthusiasts and totally out of his element, until a boy sitting at the back corner of the room catches his eye.Keith is an english major, but he also always has a bunch of art supplies on hand, for whatever reason. Lance can barely keep his eyes off of him, even if Keith doesn't seem to notice, or even acknowledge him. It's not until their two best friends leave them in a room together that things take a turn for the better.





	The Charm of W101

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So, back around Christmas, I did a giveaway for hitting my 300 followers count, and dear Erin ([@vldrocketeer](https://vldrocketeer.tumblr.com/)) was the winner! I was fortunate enough, through this, to become her friend and to write an amazing piece of fic, so it really was a win-win for the both of us!
> 
> Again, sorry this took so long, sweetie!! But I am glad you liked this :D
> 
> So, Erin requested that I write a fluffy college Klance au, and we spent quite a bit of time discussing what majors Lance and Keith would have, who they knew, and what sort of people they'd be at university. I can honestly say that the entirety of this fic is heavily based off my own small liberal arts university college, and my own experience there.
> 
> Oh, and _r_ is a psychological short form for correlation coefficient. For example, such as the Pearson Product-Moment Correlation Coefficient, which is the test I use on my data most often in my psych lab studies. It's both a blessing and a curse, guys, don't ever do psychological statistics, you'll want to rip your eyes out... through your _ears_ or some shit. It's bad.
> 
> And another random note... I've seen people come to campus with bags that are literally like, the size of me [ _and I'm no slouch, coming in at 5'7"_ ], and I was wondering if you guys knew why people make bags so **big**??? Like, fuck, I know profs want us to bring all of our books to class, but damn, needing a bag that big for all our books is just not fucking worth it...
> 
> But enough chatter. I hope you all enjoy _**The Charm of W101**_!

# The Charm of W101

 

Lance knew from the moment that he walked into room W101 that he was fucked.

 

The prof, who he had known for all of ten minutes, was an eccentric, scatterbrained, and forgetful man. With a wild head of hair that rivaled that of a mad scientist, paired with a smoothly groomed moustache and the wildest clothes Lance had ever seen, Professor Smythe was probably a really nice guy hidden under all that weird English prof vibe. He was the head of the English department at Altea University, and, fortunately for Lance, was willing to let any aspiring knowledge seekers into his class, no matter how late in their career they were.

 

Lance had managed to avoid any sort of arts and humanities courses up until now, but with graduation looming at the end of his fourth year, he had to make up the final credit that determined his graduation. At Altea University, every student had to complete five full year courses in their first year, or the equivalent of that, and complete a full year course under each; arts and humanities, social science, and math.

 

He had math covered. He was an astronomy major, after all, and math was a required course practically every year. He also had social science covered. Back in first year, when he’d still thought he wanted to go through university for psychology and dance, he took the first year introductory course to determine what field of psych he’d want to go in to. Although, that was the first and only psych course he’d ever take, because once he found astronomy, he was hooked.

 

But, he’d _completely_ avoided the arts and humanities credit. So, here he was, just in time for class, completely surrounded by third and fourth year English majors.

 

He certainly didn’t belong here. But, his graduation was important, after all the hours of hard work he’d put in over at the lab and in the studio.

 

With a sigh, and a forced smile over at the prof, he slouched over to the only empty seat in the class, in the back row, opposite to the door. It was beside the window, giving him a nice view of the courtyard below.

 

Professor Smythe, after his quick assurance that everyone could call him Coran, went through introductions and blathered on about all the course info and the same spiel that all the profs had to give at the start of a course. Lance quickly zoned out and took a look at his new classmates for the year.

 

W101 was a small classroom, with desk and chair sets that looked like the ones you had back in third grade, but bigger. There was a large window spanning the length of the room opposite the door, and there was still some math problems left on the blackboard from the last class. From the looks of it, it looked like a stats class, perhaps a psych stats class? Lance couldn’t remember what _r_  stood for, but it didn’t look anything like _his_ stats classes.

 

With two decent size books stacked on most students desks, Lance guessed that there were textbooks in this class he was _supposed_ to get. But who had extra money on the side to buy textbooks for classes that weren’t for their program? He certainly didn’t. He’d have to ask Hunk to see if they were on reserve in the library. Most of his fellow classmates already looked tired, even though it was only the second day back to campus after the summer break. There were only a few who looked eager to be there, while the rest were a mix of bored and jittery.

 

The only person who wasn’t like the rest, was a dark haired boy sitting at the back corner of the classroom, closest to the door. He had his head down, with his nose practically buried into some big novel. It didn’t look like one of the textbooks for this class that Lance saw sitting around, so, what was he reading?

 

Lance didn’t have a chance in hell to see what the title was from across the room, but with how intently the boy’s gaze stayed on the pages, he must have been enjoying it. Lance had never seen someone so engrossed in a novel before. His long black bangs were slipping out from beneath his beanie, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He was dressed somewhat comfortably in a loose black t-shirt, and dark blue ripped jeans. There was a large black bag sitting against the back leg of the desk, cutting off Lance’s view from the knee down to the floor. Why was his bag so _big_?

 

Lance shrugged slightly to himself. If he didn’t make any friends in this class, it would be a _long_ year.

 

* * *

 

Lance quickly realized why he skimped on doing English for so long.

 

Up until this point, he’d been living life thinking that his own major gave a lot of readings.

 

Oh, how _incorrect_ he was.

 

Fortunately for him, the two textbooks that Coran listed as required for his course were also put on reserve at the library. And double fortunately for Lance, Hunk was one of the many students who worked at the front desk. _That_ meant that he could lend Lance the textbooks for longer than the standard two hour limit. He’d just give Lance a sly smile and type in a corrected time for north of four hours, then hand him the textbooks with a finger pressed to his lips.

 

And Lance certainly needed it. It wasn’t even that he was a slow reader (although that was definitely a part of it), but the content itself was not something he could read once and understand. Apparently, reading it a few times would help him actually understand rather than just absorb the words.

 

It was a good thing that he never saw any of his classmates in the library. Lance was starting to think that he should just, move back to campus, since he practically lived here anyways between dance, astronomy, and these _fucking_ English readings. The only person he saw consistently enough to recognize was the dark haired boy from the back of class. His nose was still always buried in a book, but sometimes he also had a sketchbook that he’d doodle in as he read. Lance couldn’t really wrap his head around _how_ he could multitask like that, but, you do whatcha gotta do at university.

 

* * *

  

“So, why are you taking this class if you hate it so much?” Hunk asked, and shrugged his bag over his broad shoulder.

 

Lance grunted as he stood up from his comfy seat in the library. “I need the credit,” he huffed, and yawned, stretching his arms up high. He groaned happily as his back popped comfortably, “But this entire thing is gonna be _awful_.”

 

“I’m sure it’s not gonna be _that_ bad.” Hunk disagreed softly, and clapped a hand over Lance’s shoulder as they made their way out of the library, and back towards the classrooms.

 

“But _it **is**_.” Lance whined, and leaned heavily into his best friend as they ambled down the hall. “I have to _actually_ keep up on the readings since the prof is the kind of guy to _call_ on people and ask questions! Who actually does that anymore?”

 

“He is the head of the English department.” Hunk reminded him softly, and bumped his hip against Lance. “So, he can do what he wants.”

 

Lance threw his head back and groaned dramatically. “Unfortunately.” Both he and Hunk slowed to a stop around the same time, when they came to a set of stairs going up and down. He gestured up the stairs, towards the next level of classes. “Ugh, this is it.”

 

“I’ll see you later, then. Good luck!” Hunk exclaimed, and waved towards Lance with a wide genuine smile on his face. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up liking it!”

 

“ ** _Sure_** I will.” Lance muttered darkly, and bounded quickly up the stairs to the second level of classrooms.

 

W101 was the last room on the left, at the end of the short hallway. The door at the back of the room was firmly closed, but the one at the front was only mostly closed. Lance knew he was a bit early, so that wasn’t exactly surprising. He walked past the door at the back of the room towards the front, hoping that the previous class had already cleared out so he could sit down again.

 

When Lance peeked in through the cracked door, the seats he could see were empty. Breathing a soft sigh of relief, he let the door swing wide open with a bit of soft creaking, and surveyed the layout of desks, trying to determine where he wanted to sit today.

 

The room was practically empty, even Coran wasn’t here yet, but there was one desk filled at the back corner of the classroom.

 

Lance wasn’t sure if it was the lighting, or if his eyes were just so tired that he was seeing shit, but that boy sitting there curled up at his desk, practically drowning in a big hoodie and a beanie, was the most _beautiful_ sight Lance had ever seen. His chin was resting in the cupped palm of his hand, elbow pressed against the front edge of the desk, and his dark eyes scanned over the words of the novel laid in front of him eagerly. The late morning sunlight streaming in from the window seemed to highlight all of his delicate features, and gave him a general halo of soft light.

 

Lance’s poor heart just couldn’t handle that shit. He fought the urge to clutch at his chest and tried to keep his knees steady under him. _Holy shit_ , was Lance’s only thought. He barely noticed when one of his classmates brushed past him to enter the class. He was just, stuck, staring at the boy at the back of his class, wondering how he was even real and more importantly, _who he was_.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until the fifth week of classes that Lance learned that boy’s name, when Coran called on him to answer a question.

 

“Keith, how would you scan Keats’ _Ode to Autumn_?”

 

He glanced back just as Keith glanced up, with a bit of a bored expression, and replied “iambic pentameter,” in a low, bored voice.

 

 _Keith, huh?_ Lance thought it was a fitting name for him.

 

Coran nodded, and turned back to the board, writing the first line of the poem there in his usually messy chalk-writing. “Correct! And, how would it scan?”

 

Keith’s eyebrow twitched minutely, before he recited how to properly scan the first line of the poem. Lance didn’t really understand it, but, he didn’t really need to _know_ how to do it for what he needed to do in this course. He could only focus on how beautiful that boy-- _Keith’s_ \-- voice was.

 

* * *

  

One day, when Lance stumbled into class about five minutes late, he ended up having to sit beside Keith.

 

Fortunately, or _unfortunately_ , that class was only the fifty minute lecture. Lance wasn’t sure if he was going to ascend to heaven, or descend to the pits of hell. How would he _cope_?

 

Keith didn’t have a novel with him that day, but, he did have a large sketchbook out on his desk. He had a bunch of black chalk-like stuff off to the side, and his fingertips were covered with the dust it made. He was furiously colouring in some sort of scene, occasionally glancing down at his lap to his phone, where a coloured image of the same scene was.

 

Lance had to admit, although he didn’t have a single artistic bone in his body, he could see that the art piece was absolutely beautiful.

 

Just like Keith.

 

* * *

 

It became a habit, Lance slowly moving closer and closer to sitting where Keith sat at the back corner of the room. Some days it was easier than others, when he managed to get out of his dance studio class _on time_ , but it also depended on how long it took him to pack up and change to run back to the main building of Altea.

 

But today, he was just too damn lazy to change out of his standard uniform to go to his next class, so when he strolled in wearing a white tank top and galaxy printed leggings, everyone’s eyes instantly zoned in on him.

 

Lance fought the urge to walk right back out and change, but, it would be counter-productive at this point. Everyone had already seen, so, he may as well commit at this point. With his head down, he quickly found a seat in the back, right next to Keith’s desk.

 

Keith, as usual, was already sitting at his desk when Lance shuffled into his seat with a soft grunt. But, unusually, as soon as Lance sat and started pulling out his laptop, Keith slipped a bookmark into his current book and turned to face Lance.

 

“I’ve…” Keith began, but paused for a moment before continuing, “never really seen you around before. Are you an English major?”

 

Lance’s head whipped up so quickly that he swore his neck cracked. “Wha-- Me?” he stuttered out. _Wow, so smooth, Lance_ , he mentally chastised.

 

Keith breathed out a soft chuckle, and raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, yes?”

 

“No. I, uh,” Lance scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “I just need an arts and humanities credit to graduate.”

 

“Oh, that makes sense.” Keith said seriously. He reached back behind his head to pull the  ponytail out of his hair, and ruffled his hair around a bit. A soft _clink_ noise sounded off, rattling around just below Keith’s chair. “So, what _is_ your major?”

 

“Astronomy, and minoring in dance.” Lance said distractedly, and leaned over to see what cause the noise. There was a small paintbrush on the ground, the only thing that looked like it could be the culprit.

 

As he reached down to grab it, he ended up leaning into Keith’s space, making Keith lean back a bit in shock. As soon as Lance lifted the paintbrush up as a silent explanation, Keith’s eyes widened, and he plucked the brush from Lance’s fingers.

 

“Shit, uh, thanks. I would have been looking for that next class.”

 

“No worries… Studio art minor?”

 

Keith shook his head, and placed the paintbrush between his teeth so he could retie his hair back. “Major.” he grit out around the paintbrush. The tips of his ears were flushed pink, Lance noticed, as Keith gathered his hair behind his head.

 

Lance tilted his head to the side, a frown playing at the edges of his lips. “I thought you were an English major?”

 

He took the paintbrush in hand again, and placed it back into his hair, between his skull and where the ponytail sat nearly flush against his skull. “Double major.”

 

“Welcome back, class!” Coran exclaimed from the front of the room, and turned to the blackboard, brandishing a piece of chalk. “If you could all turn to page three hundred and ninety-four, to the second poem listed on the page…”

 

Lance turned back towards Keith to ask about _what_ studio art he was a part of, but Keith already had his head buried back in his book.

 

* * *

 

The next time Lance came into class, his seat beside Keith was taken.

 

He fought the urge to pout for just a moment, before realizing that he’d never seen the girl in their class before. _Wait_ , was there some big assignment he was forgetting about? That was the only reason new people, who hadn’t showed up since the first day of class, would ever be here.

 

Lance thought about it for a moment, before coming up blank. They had a paper due in _two weeks_ , which he knew he had to start puttering away on, but he still had plenty of time for that.

 

So, who _was_ this girl sitting in his self-proclaimed seat?

 

She was short, practically tiny in stature, with short brown hair that was back in a ponytail, with about a hundred bobby pins to keep all the flyaways out of her face. She had a big pair of circular glasses on, and her freckles stood out starkly against her pale skin.

 

She said something too quietly to hear that made Keith laugh, and Lance’s heart sank. He’d never heard Keith laugh before, and suddenly this girl comes into their class and makes Keith show more emotion than he’d ever seen out of him?

 

He could only desperately hope that Keith wasn’t an already claimed man.

 

Keith had never given any indication of being in a relationship, but, then again, what did Lance really _know_ about Keith?

 

“Anyways, I should leave you to your nerd class.” the girl said with a sigh, and stood up, grabbing her bag with a groan. “Guess I’ll go chill out at work for a bit. Some peace and quiet before all the idiots show up.”

 

“Don’t be too mean to them, Pidge.” Keith said wryly, with a bit of a smirk playing at the edge of his lips. “Just because they _have_  to listen to you as their supervisor doesn’t mean they don’t respect you.”

 

“There are days I wonder.” The girl, Pidge, said with a shake of her head. She walked behind Keith’s desk and ruffled his hair as she walked past. “Have fun!”

 

Keith ducked his head and tried to escape her quick hands. “Oh, fuck off already.” he muttered fondly, and attempted to straighten his hair. He glanced up suddenly, and saw Lance standing there awkwardly, waiting for his seat. “Oh shit, uh, hey Lance!”

 

Pidge whipped back around as soon as Lance’s name left Keith’s lips, a wicked grin on her face. “So, _this_ is Lance, huh?” She said ominously, and turned to Lance, offering him a hand. “I’m Pidge. I’ve heard _a lot_ about you.”

 

“ ** _Pidge_**.” Keith hissed out warningly as Lance shook her hand.

 

With an obvious wink over her shoulder back at Keith, she patted Lance on the shoulder as she walked past. “Oh, you two needed all the help you could get.” With a two finger salute, she called back “Have fun!”

 

Lance watched her leave with a surely confused expression on his face. _What did she mean?_

 

Keith sighed, and fell forwards over his desk, his forehead colliding with the surface with a soft _thunk_. “Sorry about her,” he apologized as he sat up again. “She likes to mettle.”

 

“Mettle?” Lance questioned, and started back towards his desk again. “With what?”

 

Keith chewed at his lip for a moment, before merely shaking his head at his thoughts. “Nevermind.”

 

“Who is she?” Lance asked cautiously. “Like, your girlfriend or something?”

 

Keith broke out in startled laughter at the mere idea. “ ** _Pidge_** and I?” he said between chortles. “God, no.”

 

Lance tilted his head, staring at Keith curiously. He could only hope that Keith didn’t have someone in his life… “And… You’re not interested? In her.”

 

“No.” Keith said quickly, and ducked his head. “But… There is _someone_ I’m interested in.”

 

Lance fought to keep his face neutral as his world practically crumbled around him.

 

Keith was quick to change the topic, fortunately. “So, what did you think of _A Christmas Carol_?”

 

* * *

 

“Wait, so you know Pidge?”

 

“How do _you_ know Pidge?!”

 

Hunk shrugged, and leaned his elbows on the counter. “She and I are both engineering majors. Everyone knows everyone in that department.”

 

“Still!” Lance exclaimed, and threw his arms out wide. “I can’t believe you know her-- _Wait_.” he leaned forwards, squinting, and pointed an accusing finger at Hunk. “You know Keith, don’t you?”

 

Hunk dropped his gaze to the textbook in front of him, and chewed at his lip.

 

“ _Hunk_!” Lance shrieked.

 

“Shh!” one of the librarians hissed from her office behind the front desk.

 

“I didn’t know that he was **your** Keith!” Hunk whispered-shouted, and let his head drop against his textbook in front of him.

 

“My--” Lance hunched over, and clutched at his chest. _‘My Keith_ ’. He liked the sound of that _far_ too much. “He’s not ‘my Keith’ or anything, dude!” he hissed.

 

With a groan, Hunk sat up just to level Lance with a look, but didn’t argue. “Still, I had no idea that this was the Keith you were talking about. But, yeah, I know him. He comes to Pidge’s work a lot to hang out with us. He’s pretty cool, you should drop by sometime when we’re together.”

 

“Hunk, my bro, love of my life, I don’t wanna **intrude**.”

 

With a groan, Hunk fell forwards dramatically and laid his head on the desk. “I promise,” he grit out, muffled by desk below him, “that _he_ will not see it as intruding.”

 

“Whatever you say, man. But one day, I’ll prove you wrong.”

 

* * *

 

**Hunky-Honey Bear:**

            _come down to the phonathon room_

**LEGendary Lance:**

            _why?_

**Hunky-Honey Bear:**

            _trust in the Hunk_

**LEGendary Lance:**

            _…k?_

_It’s room a4 right?_

 

**Hunky-Honey Bear:**

            _yee_

 

 

Lance shut off his phone with a click, and packed up his bag. He wasn’t sure why Hunk was calling him down to the phonathon room at 9pm on a Tuesday, but, he was still on campus, so he may as well go hang out with his best friend.

 

Room A4 was directly downstairs from the library, down a narrow set of stairs nobody ever used. The stairs were only really wide enough to fit one person at a time, and the two smooth wooden railings on either side weren’t at the same height. At the base of the stairs, he immediately turned left and was met with the door with a gold plate reading A4 taped to it.

 

Through the window in the door, he could see 4 computers lined up along the left wall, and another desk with an ancient looking computer sitting at the centre of the opposite wall. Hunk was sitting on a swivel chair backwards, legs splayed around the back, talking animatedly with his hands. A girl, Lance recognized her from class the other day, he thought her name was Pidge, was sitting at the larger desk with her back to the large window on the far wall, typing away at the computer, nodding along to Hunk’s words. As lights flared up on the printer behind the computer, Lance knocked lightly.

 

Both Pidge and Hunk’s heads whipped up at the sound. Hunk smiled widely, and motioned for Lance to come in.

 

“Hey!” Hunk exclaimed as soon as Lance stepped in. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be on campus.”

 

“Yeah,” Lance yawned, and dropped his bag onto an empty chair. “Been workin’ on a paper for my English class. It’s due in a few days and I feel like I’m _screwed_ for it. I don’t know anything about what Lacan’s talking about!”

 

“You picked Lacan?”

 

Lance whipped around at the sound of Keith’s voice. He hadn’t even noticed that Keith was in there.

 

Room A4 was shaped in an ‘L’ shape, and Keith was sitting at the far end of the room at the last computer cubby. His hair was tied back again, which was doing things to Lance’s heart, and he had a few paintbrushes of different sizes placed through his ponytail.

 

“Lacan?” Lance stuttered out. “Y-yeah, I did. Why? Who’d you pick?”

 

“Someone _loads_ easier than **Lacan**.” Keith retorted with a smirk. “Did you even _read_ his paper before choosing to write about his works on the mirror theory?”

 

Lance stiffened up, and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “Of course I did! I picked it _because_ it’s on the mirror theory, it’s something I know!” He glanced down, and scuffed the toe of his shoe against the carpet. “But… I may have underestimated how batshit _crazy_ his theories are.”

 

Keith snorted despite himself, but quickly covered his grin behind his hand.

 

“Okay, so you’re **nuts** , good to know.” Pidge interjected dryly from her chair.

 

“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence.” Lance grumbled, and pouted at her.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“I’m sure you can do this,” Hunk interjected encouragingly, with a warm smile. “You can probably SparkNotes it, or somethin’, right?”

 

“Not really…” Lance groaned, and leaned over onto Hunk dramatically. “Everyone knows how crazy Lacan was, and nobody knows how to understand him. Apparently people dedicate their academic careers to unraveling his theories. So, he’s an enigma to everyone.”

 

“I can help you with your paper.” Keith offered lowly. “I-I mean, if you want.”

 

Pidge finally looked up from her computer screen to level Keith with a look.

 

“Woah, would… Would you actually?” Lance asked slowly, only daring to hope that Keith’s offer was sincere.

 

“‘Course.” Keith agreed, and offered him a brief smile. “I’ve got some time before I’m gonna head home, if you want to talk about it while I paint?”

 

“Sure!” Lance exclaimed, and practically tripped over to Keith’s side with how fast he tried to move. As soon as he plopped down in the seat beside him, he couldn’t help but stop and stare in awe at the piece Keith was working on.

 

The scene coming to life before Lance’s eyes was of a field at sunrise. There was a bit of snow on the ground, enough to give a dusting, but not enough to completely bury the cleanly plowed rows. In the distance, there was a solid line of pine trees, but none of that was what drew Lance’s gaze in.

 

Above the line of trees, all the way to the top of the canvas, was a multitude of beautifully coloured clouds. From a light pink, to pale blue, even grey-violet in areas, the clouds in the sky took up the majority of the painting. In some areas, it was painted in almost a wash, while in others, the clouds were painted so fully that Lance almost wanted to reach out and touch them.

 

“Wow.” he murmured incredulously. He blinked a few times to make sure his tired eyes weren’t imagining anything. “This is _incredible_ , man. Did you take the photo it’s based off of?”

 

Keith flushed, and pushed some stray hair behind his ear. “Yeah, I uh… I did.”

 

“Jeez…” Lance whispered, and leaned into Keith’s space to get a closer look at the painting. It was _crazy_ , there was so much depth painted in onto the canvas that it didn’t look flat, not in the least. It didn’t look like a photograph, exactly, although it most definitely came from one. But, Keith managed to breathe life into it, make it his own, and Lance almost couldn’t breathe. This painting didn’t look like some 2D rendition of something. When he looked at it, it almost looked like he was looking out a window, not staring at a painting.

 

“Told you it was good, Keith.” Hunk piped up from the other side of the room. “And _I_ don’t have an artistic bone in my body.”

 

“Incorrect.” Keith retorted, and swiveled around in his chair to face Hunk. “Your cooking is an art form of its own.”

 

“Ditto.” Lance and Pidge said at the same time.

 

Hunk buried his head in his hands, but his big smile couldn’t be hid by his hands. “Aww guys, you flatter me.”

 

“We only state the true facts, bro.” Lance promised, and winked over at Hunk. “Why did you think I wanted to be your roommate?” When Hunk seemed too flustered for any more words, Lance turned back to Keith. “So, you really don’t mind helping? With my paper, I mean.”

 

“I mean, I won’t write it for you.” Keith said slowly, and looked over to Lance with a worried expression.

 

“No no, that’s not what I--” Lance said quickly.

 

“But I’m more than willing to talk some ideas through with you.”

 

Lance breathed out a sigh of relief, and offered Keith a smile. “Dude, _thanks_.” He reached down for his bag, only to realize he left it over by Hunk. With a long quiet groan under his breath, he stood up and made his way to the other side of the room to grab his bag.

 

Hunk reached out and grabbed his arm as he walked past. “See?” he whispered, a mischievous glint in his eye. “ _Told you_ he wouldn’t mind.”

 

“Oh, hush, you.” Lance hissed, and slung his bag over his shoulder.

 

“Yo, Keith.” Pidge announced, and leaned back in her chair to look around the cubicles at him. “Hunk and I are gonna head out soon, do you guys wanna stay here?”

 

“Do you mind?” he replied without looking away from the painting in front of him. “It’d just be easier for us to stay, rather than move to the library until it closes at eleven.”

 

“Naw, man. Just remember to shut the lights out and--”

 

“And make sure the windows are closed, all the computer screens are off, and the door is locked.” Keith leaned back with a brow raised, smirking all the while. ”This isn’t my first time at the rodeo, Pidgeon.”

 

She huffed, and narrowed her eyes at him, holding his gaze for a few long moments. When she deemed his words true enough, she nodded once, briskly, and turned back to her own computer screen, hunching over her keyboard again.

 

Keith shook his head, a fond smile playing on his lips as Lance made his way back to Keith’s side.

 

“So,” Keith said, and picked up a paintbrush again. “What’s your thesis?”

 

* * *

 

Hunk and Pidge left shortly after, wanting to get out of listening to Lance bitch and moan about how _stupid_ Lacan’s theories were. And Lance had a _lot_ to say about the matter. Like, how did a man go from talking in a calm and logical manner to discussing how pigeons look in a mirror and are like, “yah, I’m down 4 sum fuk”.

 

Keith broke out laughing at Lance’s choice of words, but nodded along anyways.

 

“I’m not wrong!” Lance screeched, and pushed away from the desk and his laptop, spinning around on his chair.

 

Keith’s laughter trailed off into a soft huff, and he shook his head at Lance’s antics.

 

When Keith’s back was turned, Lance took a moment to admire Keith’s profile. Even in a loose t-shirt, sweat pants, and a beanie hiding his messy hair, Lance couldn’t help but think he was beautiful. He was sure the shitty call centre lights weren’t doing _him_ any favours, but Keith looked like heaven itself, sitting cross-legged on one of the comfortable office chairs.

 

“You’re not wrong, no.” Keith said eventually. “But I wouldn’t use that choice of words in your paper. Coran wouldn’t like that.”

 

“I won’t.” Lance promised, and pushed the chair again so it was back in the cubicle with Keith.

 

“But, I think if you bring up the points you made, with flaws in his theory and how they’re not realistic, you’ll be fine.” Keith glanced back over his shoulder at Lance as he started packing up his things. “Does that help?”

 

“Tremendously. Thank you _so much_ , Keith.” Lance said sincerely.

 

With a smile, Keith uncrossed his legs and stood up to dump his dirty paint water out the window. “Good. Cause, I am excited to go home and sleep.”

 

“Sleep?” Lance groaned, and leaned back in his chair. “What’s that?”

 

Keith snorted, and turned back to Lance with a fond look. “Something I am _trying_ to figure out, all said and done.”

 

“Aren’t we all.” Lance agreed, and let his head drop forward onto the back of his chair. “I swear, all the profs are like, trying to see who’s class has the bigger eye bags, like, some sort of ridiculous competition between them. Whoever gives the most stress to their students wins a better coffee machine than the one they already have in their office, no matter how nice it is.”

 

“As much as I hate to admit it, that’s very plausible. Like, every year they try to one up the previous winner, or something.” Keith admitted dryly. “I think people in the social sciences have it the worst, though, with multiple classes trying to conduct their own experiments _and_ write the scientific report on it afterwards. They’re just so much to plan, execute, and write.”

 

“No kidding.” Lance agreed. “It makes me happy I decided against psychology. A friend of mine is in that program, and she has both her thesis experiment to run, and another experiment she has to make for her cognition class. I can’t even imagine.”

 

“Makes writing a bunch of papers seem easy.” Keith said lowly, and started packing up his art supplies. He glanced back over his shoulder at Lance, and said “Well, if you’re _good_ at writing papers, that is.”

 

Lance pouted and narrowed his eyes back at him. “I know that was a dig at me, and honestly, I don’t even care. Flowery writing is not my cup of tea. Give me a scientific report any day of the week.”

 

“Ugh, but those are so much more _work_ ,” Keith groaned, and shoved his paint stained water cup into his bag. “Regular essays are just, so much easier.”

 

“Agree to disagree, then?” Lance asked with a smile.

 

Keith hummed in agreement as he finished packing up the rest of his things. “Well, we should head out, then.” He picked his phone up off of the desk, glancing at the lock screen. “It’s after eleven, I think most of the doors will be locked by now.”

 

Lance nodded, rubbing his tired eyes. “Sounds good.” he murmured, and pushed the chair forwards, back in front of the desk so he could grab his laptop. He put it back into his bag carefully as Keith went around the room shutting off all the computer monitors and closing the two open windows.

 

As soon as Lance stood up and grabbed his coat, Keith shut off the first set of lights. “You ready?” he asked, making his way back to his seat to grab his own bag and coat.

 

“Yeah, I’m ready to head home. Excited to be reunited with my bed.” Lance said, and slung his bag up and over his shoulder. “My relationship with ‘er has been pretty rocky, but, tonight we’re gonna try to rekindle our relationship.”

 

That brought a surprised laugh out of Keith, but he quickly ducked his head to hide the smile.

 

“What?” Lance asked, feigning a scandalous tone. “My relationship with my bed is very important! Can’t have her feeling abandoned, now can I?”

 

“Most certainly not.” Keith quickly agreed, and looked back up at him to nod seriously. “But, to be honest, a university student trying to maintain a committed relationship to his bed?” He pursed his lips, and tapped at his chin thoughtfully. “That seems rather unlikely, don’t you think?”

 

“Don’t doubt me! If anyone can make it work, I can!” he vowed.

 

Keith chuckled, and stepped around him to throw on his coat and gather up his bag. He turned towards Lance to give him a small smile. “Well, I think you can do anything you set your mind to.” he said softly.

 

Lance froze, stopping to stare at the man in front of him. Did Keith really think so highly of him?

 

“Shit, uh, did I break you?” Keith questioned, and waved a hand in front of Lance’s face.

 

He jerked back when Keith’s thumb nearly brushed his nose, and covered his nose with his own hand protectively. “No, I just--” he started.

 

“I didn’t mean to do that, I swear.” Keith quickly assured, and stepped closer to Lance. “I just think that you’re really smart and talented and really passionate about your academics. Like, I see you in the library _all the time_ trying to get a grasp on those English readings, and you spend a lot of time at the dance studio practicing for your recital coming up--”

 

“You _know_ about that?” Lance asked incredulously.

 

“--and you also, like, never leave campus, which makes me think you don’t spend a lot of time at your place? Hunk’s said that he misses eating dinner with you, and just, you’re so dedicated to your studies that it’s so admirable and wow I am rambling I’ll uh, I’ll just stop now.” Keith finished awkwardly, and looked down at his feet. He rocked back and forth on his ankles while Lance tried to take in all the information Keith just threw at him.

 

Lance couldn’t take his eyes off of Keith’s face as he looked anywhere but back at him. Considering he felt like he knew _nothing_ about Keith, he was shocked that he had picked up on so much about his life. He sort of felt bad, but he was also really flattered at the same time. Someone took the time to notice these things about him, and wow, when did he start getting butterflies in his stomach?

 

“Keith?” Lance whispered, and stepped closer to him.

 

Keith winced, and bit at his lip harshly before finally looking up at Lance. “What?” he asked hesitantly.

 

Lance leaned down slowly, gaze flickering between Keith’s eyes and his lips, making sure that he wasn’t reading the situation wrong. Keith sucked in a quiet breath, but didn’t move, scarcely even breathing until Lance finally closed the distance between them.

 

The kiss was simple, just a constant press of lips, both hesitant in their movement, but there was an underlying hint of more, of wanting, of simplicity. Keith’s eyelids fell shut as soon as their lips met, and he pressed up into it slightly. It was natural, like two pieces coming together. Lance fought the urge to smile, instead brought his hand up to the side of Keith’s face to ground himself.

 

Keith pulled back first, but only so there was only space for a breath between them. He opened his eyes after a few moments, looking properly dazed for Lance’s tastes. “What… What was that for?” he whispered.

 

With a smile, Lance swooped in and gave him a quick peck before answering; “Because I just realized you liked me back.”

 

A smile lit up Keith’s face, but he quickly bit at his lip to cover the intensity of his happiness. Lance knew he’d have to do something to stop Keith from doing that in the future. He was too beautiful and pure to do that, it was a shame to hide something like that from the world.

 

“Who did you think I was talking about when I said I was interested in someone?” Keith asked slyly.

 

“I honestly had no idea it was me, or else I would have asked you out on the spot.” Lance admitted. “I noticed you on the first day of class, and kept noticing you every day since.”

 

Keith’s cheeks flushed, and he ducked his head to hide from Lance’s gaze, but Lance had none of that, and ducked down to try to hold his gaze. “Seriously,” Lance assured, “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for _months_ now. So,” he paused to reach out and hold Keith’s hands in his own, “will you go out on a date with me?”

 

“And I’ve been waiting for _you_ to ask me out for months now,” Keith answered shyly, and peeked up through his bangs to meet Lance’s gaze. “So, yes, I would love to go out on a date with you.”

 

* * *

 

_A few months later…_

 

“I can’t believe you defiled my phonathon room like that!” Pidge exclaimed, throwing her arms up. “I left you guys with _one_ task, to make sure everything was off and to close the _fucking_ door—”

 

“Pidge, we had our first kiss in the phones room.” Keith interrupted in a deadpan voice, not even looking up from the novel he was reading. “It’s not like we had sex on your desk.”

 

Lance snorted, and leaned over to say “But we _could_ ” in Keith’s ear, loudly enough that Pidge would hear.

 

Pidge stood up, her expression murderous, but was quickly stopped by Hunk grabbing her by the arm and pulling her back down onto the couch beside him. “Don’t get any ideas, guys, I eat in there almost every day.” Hunk sighed, and levelled Lance with a look.

 

Lance huffed, and sprawled dramatically across Keith’s lap. Keith was used to this sort of thing by now, and lifted his book up without even losing track of where he was on the page. “Aww c’mon Pidgeon, that was _months_ ago! I can’t believe you’re only hearing about this now.” Lance turned his head to smirk over at her. “I thought you were the overlord of the call centre, or something, knower of all. Well, turns out you _don’t_ know everything.”

 

“I know things that are important, Lance.” Pidge dryly remarked, pulling her glasses off with a flourish to pretend to clean them. “ **That’s** not important.”

 

“Wh—Hey now, Pidge.” Keith spluttered, and put the book down to look at his friend dead-on. “That _was_ pretty important.”

 

“Yeah, but not to me.” She said, sliding her glasses back into place. “Don’t ever defile my phonathon room again.” She threatened with a pointed finger.

 

“No promises, little dude.” Lance muttered. At Pidge’s deadly glare and Keith’s elbow to his stomach, he coughed and swore appropriately.

 

Hunk shook his head at his friend’s shenanigans. “But back onto more important things; are we thinking it should be ‘Taco Tuesday’ or ‘Taco Thursday’ at the Garret/McClain pad?”

 

“Obviously ‘Taco Tuesday’.” Lance exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly for their location in the library. Someone a few seats back exclaimed ‘yeah!’, and Lance smirked and fist pumped the air. “I live there and I should get the most say.”

 

Keith snorted and shook his head fondly. “I can’t agree with you there, babe.” At Lance’s betrayed noise he stroked his hand through his boyfriend’s short hair. “We’re all busy Tuesdays, it should be Thursday’s.”

 

“I agree with Keith,” Pidge chimed in, “especially since Hunk, the **cook** , has class until nine that night. Who wants to make tacos after nine any night of the week?”

 

“True that,” Hunk agreed, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And since _I’m_ the cook, I really should be the one deciding.”

 

Lance whined and let his head fall back against Keith’s leg with a _thump_. “Why do you guys always team up against me?”

 

“Because you make it too easy for us.” Pidge said with a smirk.

 

“I do **not**!” Lance exclaimed, but both Hunk and Keith were already snickering.

 

As his friends and his boyfriend laughed at Lance’s pain, he took a moment to just look up at the boy he was falling for. If someone had asked Lance seven months ago where he’d be during March hell of his third year, he probably would have said ‘practically living on campus, living on pop tarts’. But with Keith in his life, he was able to do that with someone amazing who didn’t judge him for it.

 

Or, well, judge him _too much_ for it.

 

Perhaps taking English wasn’t so bad after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, Coran is 100% based off of my own professor, who is also the head of the english department at my uni. I'm convinced the man does not own a hairbrush, nor does he think that students have lives outside of his classroom [ _even when I've literally had to call him at my job before... I am like Pidge, a supervisor at a phonathon call centre at a uni_ ]. And room A4 is actually the phonathon room at my school!
> 
> Also, W101, the main room in this fic, is also a room I spend a lot of time in at my uni. It's one of the classrooms on the upper level, primarily used for English classes. I was actually sitting in that room when I started writing the fic back in December, and spent a lot of time writing this in that room. It's funny how things like that come back into fiction!
> 
> Oh, the painting Keith was working on at the end of the fic? I actually took the photo I described, and did do an acryllic painting of it back in 10th grade. It's one of the pieces I'm most proud of, and the photo was sick. We were supposed to paint pictures of Canadian landscapes, and my teacher back then actually asked me if it was of a Canadian landscape... When I took the picture... From the bus window... On my daily bus route to school. It didn't end well for her, heh. I had some interest to see the original picture, so you guys can find it [here](http://winter-and-little-brunettes.tumblr.com/post/173612709534/for-those-of-you-who-were-wondering-what-the)!
> 
> As always, feel free to hit me up on either [tumblr](http://winter-and-little-brunettes.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/winternbrunett5), and consider subscribing to me! I'm working on posting more one shots in the future, not just updating [The Power of Faith](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402112).


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